Song of Myself
by Emily92
Summary: AU. Albus and Minerva's daughter Lucy struggles with her identity and goes through difficult times.
1. Prologue

**Author's Notes:** This had been sitting in my writing folder for some time, essentially gathering dust. I found it last night while working on the sequal to _Ties of Blood and Loyalty _and revised and added to it. More chapters will be coming shortly. Note that this will be a bit heavier than my other stuff; rating may change to M in the future. And yes, I know I should be dedicating myself to the _TOBAL_ sequal, but this caught my attention. Don't worry, though: I haven't abandoned the other.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything you recognize from _Harry Potter._

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**Song of Myself**

_Not I, not any one else can travel that road for you, _

_You must travel it for yourself. _

_It is not far, it is within reach, _

_Perhaps you have been on it since you were born and did not know, _

_Perhaps it is everywhere on water and on land. _

_You are also asking me questions and I hear you, _

_I answer that I cannot answer, you must find out for yourself. _

_-- _Walt Whitman, "Song of Myself"

**Prologue: Assumptions**

Everyone has assumptions. People think they know things, but they don't. People have assumptions about me, but they're wrong. People assume my life is perfect, but in reality it's far from it. People think they know Lucilia Dumbledore; they don't.

"_Flitwick's test was impossibly hard."_

"_I'm sure I failed."_

"She_ did fine, I'm sure."_

It's the last name that does it. Say "Dumbledore," and everyone thinks of my father. Albus Dumbledore, renowned wizard and loving father. People say that he's a good man, and he is. He's also very well known, as is my mother, Minerva McGonagall. My parents are two of the most influential people of the wizarding world; while I'm proud of them both, their fame has set the bar quite high for me. And I don't know if I'll ever be able to reach it.

I'm tired of assumptions. Don't jump to the conclusion that my parents are the source of this pressure. My parents are nothing short of amazing to me. They encourage and support me in my studies, but the plethora of pressure doesn't come from them. No, it comes from somewhere else. But where _does_ it come from?

"_She must love being on the cover of _The Daily Prophet._ That's so amazing. She lives this charmed life_."

"_She must have the perfect life."_

"_Yeah, lucky Lucy."_

That is not a simple question to answer. I could say the media and be partially correct, because Merlin knows Geraldine Skeeter loves to run stories on my family and their success. Teachers expect nothing short of perfection from me; both of my parents were at the top of all their classes. Why shouldn't the same be said of me? I do try my hardest, but when I typically receive nothing but eighty-five and seventy percents on my exams, it never fails to surprise my classmates. "Dumbledore and McGonagall are your bloody parents, shouldn't you be some sort of genius?" chants surround me and my marks.

I don't exactly excel in the social field. I have a group of wonderful friends whom I love dearly, but I'm not the most talkative. My shyness always gets the better of me. I'm not an outcast, but since my parents are famous, everyone expects me to be the most popular girl in school.

"_She's so quiet."_

"_Probably thinks she's too good to speak to us, or something."_

Really, though, I think the source of all the pressure comes from myself. I know I'm not the smartest, the most talented, or the most popular, but I feel the need to be. I always give one hundred and ten percent as a result, but sometimes I just don't succeed. Mum and Dad are both so talented and renowned, and I don't want to be a disappointment to them. I'm so scared that I will be.

"_What do you mean you didn't get an O in transfiguration? You're McGonagall's daughter!"_

Last week, Timothy McLuhan asked me to go to the Yule Ball with him. He's a prefect, and one of the most popular boys in our year. He was quite sweet at first, and I was so happy and shocked that he wanted to go with me. I was ecstatic as first, but then I overheard him talking to his friends.

"_Lucy Dumbledore…how on earth did you manage that, mate?"_

"_Yeah…Dumbledore's girl…nice."_

"_Congrats, mate!"_

They exchanged words like that, along with swaggers and slaps on Timothy's back. It was as if was nothing more than a prize. I was wrong. He didn't appreciate me for who I really was; he just liked my last name. I want to be liked for who I am, but the irony is that _I'm _not sure who I am. I've yet to figure out who Lucy Dumbledore truly is.

I want to find myself. I want to discover who I am and dispel people's assumptions about me. At the same time, I'm scared to do that. Everyone still thinks I'm still as talented as my mum and dad, when in reality I'm not. I'm not brilliant; I'm just average. I live in fear of the day when the media will figure this out. I'm scared of not living up to the standards that the world seems to have for me. I don't want to be a failure. If I don't drown in other people's assumptions, I'll surely drown in my own insecurities.

It's a shame I've already capsized and landed head first in both of them.


	2. Hiding

**Author's Notes: **Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Here's chapter one. Chapter two is in the works, so you can expect that pretty soon.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Albus, Minerva, or Hogwarts.

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**Chapter One: Hiding**

I wake up in a freezing Gryffindor common room. I shiver and pull the covers up to my chin. I stay like that for a few moments; then, I glance at the clock and get up. I get dressed and look though the window to discover that it was snowing. I smile; I love snow. It's so beautiful, and the world always seems so calm when it is covered under a cold white blanket.

I walk down to the great hall for breakfast and take a seat next to my best friend Kit. Her real name is Katherine, but no one calls her that; she doesn't like the name. However, with my middle name being Katherine, that didn't stop us from referring to each other as name twins when we were younger. Kit and I have known each other since we were eight. Our fathers are friends, which is how we met. We're both kind of quiet, but Kit is a bit more talkative than I am.

"What are you reading?" I ask her.

"Transfiguration notes," she says with a sigh, "I'm still not sure I understand everything we have to know for today's exam."

Upon hearing that, I pale considerably.

"Luce?" Kit asks, concerned, "What is it?"

"I..I completely forgot about that. The exam, I mean."

Another girl in our year, Annika, speaks up, "It's not like you have to worry. You could take the test with no studying and still get an O, I'm sure."

I just stare at my hands. At first today had seemed as if it would be a good day; now I'm not so sure.

* * *

Annika was wrong. I went into that test with no studying whatsoever and I can safely say that I did not get an O. What would my mother think? Her daughter was so thick; she could hardly absorb the basic principles of what she was taught in class.

I try to put such thoughts out of my mind so that I can concentrate on Flitwick's lecture. Suddenly, I feel someone tapping on my back. I turn around to see Timothy McLuhan with a smile on his face and a note in his hands. He hands the note to me.

I wonder how I should respond to this. I can't forget what he told his friends about me, that he's using me, yet I'm hardly brave enough to confront him about it. I decide to try to ignore it; I'm lucky Timothy even thought to ask me to the Yule Ball. As I open the note, I tell myself that I should not forget that.

_Luce…you're beautiful._

After I write a response, I slip the note back to him.

_Thank you._

He gives it back to me a few seconds later.

_No need to thank me for being honest. Have you decided what you're wearing to the ball?_

_Not yet. But I'm really excited about it._

_Me too…you should wear blue. It'd look nice with your hair._

My hair is blonde and shoulder length; I take a strand of it and twirl it around my finger.

_Ok._

* * *

Mum sends me an OWL a few mornings later saying that she wants me to see her after lunch. I grimace; I have a hunch about what she wants to talk to me about.

"What's up with the face?" Kit asks me.

"My mum wants to see me after lunch," I reply, "Probably about how terribly I did on that big test."

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't think I did any better, so at least we're struggling together," Kit replies.

"I just get so worried sometimes."

"About what?"

"That I'm disappointing them."

"They'll always love you know matter what, Lucy."

I sigh, "Yeah, I know."

Kit changes the subject, probably sensing that it's upsetting me, "I love the dress that you picked out for the ball."

I liked the yellow one better, I think, but Timothy wanted blue.

"Me too," I lie but smile so that Kit can't tell.

I haven't told Kit about what I overheard Timothy and his friends saying, so I'm not surprised when she says, "Timothy's so sweet. I'm envious."

I laugh but feel like crying.

"You could get one of his friends to ask me next year," she teases.

I grin.

"Really, though, Luce, I'm happy for you. You deserve someone like him."

I wish I could make that voice in the back of my head go away. It keeps nagging me: no, no you don't. No, no you don't.

I wish I could hide from the truth.

* * *

"Lucy," my mum says as I enter her classroom, "Have a seat."

If there was any doubt in my head before that I was in trouble, it has completely vanished. I sit, and she hands me a paper; it's the exam. I got a T, troll, the lowest mark that there is.

I look back up at Mum, "I'm sorry."

Her nostrils flare, "You're _sorry_? Really, that's excellent to know, but it does absolutely nothing to change the fact that _you failed this exam._"

I stare at my hands and will myself not to cry. I want to hide, to be anywhere but here.

"_Lucy!_" she continues, "Look at me! This exam makes up twenty-five percent of your grade for this marking period! You could have came to me if you didn't understand something. For Merlin's sake, Lucy, _what happened?_"

"I…I forgot to study."

"_What_ could you have been thinking about that this completely slipped through your memory?"

The fact that I don't know who I am. The fact that I'm scared to discover who I am because I'll probably hate her. It's inevitable that she'll disappoint everyone…more so than I already do.

"Nothing," I say, looking at my hands again.

"Nothing must be very complicated, whatever it may be," Mum replies, "If you don't feel like explaining it, you should go before you're late to class."

I stand up and flee from the room.

* * *

I want to hide from so many things. I want to hide from Kit so I won't have to talk about Timothy. I feel terrible for not telling her what I overheard, as if it's a lie of omission. A lie of omission - what kind of friend am I?

I want to hide from my parents so I will not be reminded of the fact that I'm inevitably a disappointment to them. _I'm not good enough. I'm just not. _Merlin. Two of the most powerful people in this era of the wizarding world had a child, and she's not even the least bit extraordinary. She struggles to be average, just to get average marks. How is that even possible?

I want to hide from myself, to hide from the fact that I'm just average. I should be better than that, but I can't be. I can't. And I'm hiding from my true self, scared to find her, because I'm pretty sure I won't like her. But really, what difference does it make: I already hate who I am right now.


	3. Falling

**Author's Notes: **A note..things are going to get really bad for Lucy before they get better, particularly towards the end of this chapter and in the next chapter. They will get better eventually, though. Again, thanks to everybody who reviewed.

**Disclaimer: **Anything that you recognize from _Harry Potter_ doesn't belong to me.

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**Chapter Two: Falling**

I don't like myself.

I've had this feeling before; usually it comes and goes intermittently. The difference this time is that I can't shake it from my mind. It creeps into my head during classes, when I should be taking notes. Instead of hearing about defense against the dark arts and herbology, I make mental lists of my flaws. If I were to write them out on parchment, they would be at least a foot long. There are so many things wrong with me…

First of all, I'm too quiet. I don't talk very much; I essentially live in my own head. Sometimes I feel as if I'm an observer in the world rather than a participant in it. I have friends, but more often than not it feels as if Kit is the only true one.

Secondly, I'm too meek. I suppose that one goes rather nicely with being quiet, but people could step all over me a thousand times and I'd never say anything. Anything at all. I guess it's because I'm scared to. And if I'm too nervous to speak up, then maybe I deserve it. Maybe I deserve to be stepped on. I probably do.

I am inadequate. I should be better than I am, but I'm not. I'm just not. And I don't know how to fix that. I try, but it doesn't work. It just doesn't. It never does.

Class is over and we file out of the room to go to lunch. Kit taps me on the arm.

"You ok?" she asks.

"I'm fine."

She looks at me knowingly.

"I'm just tired," I say, hoping that I can convince her that that's all there is to it, "I fell asleep late last night. That's all."

* * *

I lie in bed. I'm tired, but I can't sleep. I ache all over, which doesn't make sense because I didn't really do anything today. Went to class, studied, and listened as Kit and our other friends talked. That's it. Nothing that would cause my body to hurt like this. I roll over on my side, bring my knees to my chest, and try to forget about the pain.

My mind wanders, until somehow I'm picturing something: my ideal self. I would be smart, confident. Not necessarily popular, but more talkative than I am now. My parents would be proud of me; I would be proud of myself.

Sometimes I wish Mum and Dad would…it's hard to explain. I wish they would _not_ be so good to me. It would make it so much easier when I know I've done something to disappoint them. It would be so much easier if they didn't love me. It would be so much easier to disappoint them if they were bad parents, but they're not and that's why I cry.

I recall my thoughts about my ideal self. She's smart without being a know-it-all, confident without being conceited. Nearly perfect; she's nearly perfect. Will she and I ever be one?

I doubt that that will ever happen.

* * *

Am I really going to do this?

I am alone with my wand in one of the bathroom stalls. Ever since the image of my ideal self entered my mind, I haven't been able to get it out. She haunts me, taunts me because I know I'll never be able to be half as good as she is.

I can't take it anymore. Doing this would be wrong, I know, but I wouldn't be the first to. Self harm is common in depressed wizards. And if people keep doing it, there must be something it does. There must be something it does to take the pain away.

Why else would people do it?

And I want to. I want to do it. I want to do it and feel the pain afterwards. I want to do it and punish the person that I am, the person that I hate. I want to make her feel pain. I want to do these things and that desire will not leave me alone.

With trembling hands, I slowly raise my wand until it points at my wrist. I whisper an incantation and watch as the cut forms.

I got what I wanted.

I got what I deserve.

* * *

The next day, Kit and our friends Ramona and Lynne are talking about The Precious Pixies, a band that we all like. I sit with them in the common room but do not join in the conversation. I just idly listen to the three of them. Ramona says something about getting tickets so we could see them over the Christmas holiday. The Precious Pixies are my favorite band, so I'm surprised when I feel no emotion after Ramona has said this.

Kit and Lynne are both wearing grins at the idea, but I feel nothing. Not excitement, not happiness; nothing. Nothing at all.

* * *

Within the next few days, more cuts appear on my body. I stop using my wrist so that no one will notice them. The area under my upper arms and my thighs are where the cuts appear. Two cuts, four cuts, six cuts. One cut for each flaw: for being stupid, for being a disappointment, for being too quiet, the list is endless. A cut for lying to Kit, my one true friend. She's my best friend and I lied to her. Another cut for disappointing my parents; they deserve better than me, so much better than me. Kit does, too.

What I deserve is exactly what I'm getting: the cuts.

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	4. The Yule Ball

**Author's Notes: **This chapter was difficult to write because of what happens a the end of it (you'll know what I mean once you read.) Thanks for sticking with this story so far; I know it isn't exactly the brightest, happiest fanfic out there.

**Disclaimer:** Anything that you recognize from _HP_ isn't mine.

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Chapter Three: The Yule Ball

The night of the ball arrives quickly. I am not sure what to expect: Timothy is using me, yet between now and the time I overheard him talking to his friends, he's been kind to me. As I put my blue dress on - the one that he wanted - I hope for the best.

Kit comes in. I almost wish she going to the ball rather than I - assuming Timothy is going to be sweet, she deserves him more than I do.

"Luce?" she asks.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"What's bothering you? You've been so distant and pensive lately."

"I..nothing's wrong, Kit. Don't worry about me."

"Lucy." She can read me like an open spell book.

"Kit, I told you: nothing's wrong." She would worry if she knew about the cutting. She'd also want me to stop, which I have no intentions of doing right now.

"I know you're not telling me something," she says, "And I'm worried about you."

Something inside of me suddenly snaps. I just want her to stop asking about this, to stop pressing the subject. Why won't she stop talking about it?

"For Merlin's sake, Kit, the only problem I have is that _you _won't leave me alone!" I say angrily.

Kit looks shocked. Before either of us can say anything else, I leave the dormitory.

* * *

Timothy is waiting for me in the common room as I walk down the stairs from the girls' dormitories.

"Hey," he said with a smile. His smile is so charming; if I hadn't overheard him that time, I think that I would be over the moon right now.

"Hi," I reply, trying to mirror his smile. Apparently I was successful, because he takes my hand in his and asks if I'm ready to go. I reply that I am, and we exit the common room with my hand still in his.

* * *

The Great Hall has been transformed. It looks like a completely different from the place where I ate breakfast this morning. The high table is gone, and in its place is a band playing. Twinkling white lights line the walls. There is a huge Christmas tree in the corner. I smile in spite of myself.

I hear the whispers that seem to surround us as we enter the hall.

_Timothy and Lucy…they're good together. Really good together._

_The perfect couple._

_I wish I was her._

_I wish I was him._

My cheeks redden and I feel self conscious. Are we on everyone's mind tonight?

Timothy, seeing my discomfort, orders me softly, "Ignore them."

I nod. He leads me to the dance floor. His arms are around my waist and mine are on his shoulders. We begin to dance, and for a moment I forget. I forget that I'm nowhere near as talented as I should be. I forget that I'm a disappointment, that I hate myself for it. Dancing with him, I can pretend to be that girl, my ideal self. I can forget that he doesn't really like me for me, and I can pretend that he does. I can pretend that he asked me because I'm smart and pretty and everything that I'm not. I can pretend that we really are that perfect couple that everyone seems to see us as. I can forget and pretend, and that makes me smile.

"You're so pretty when you smile," he compliments.

"You flatter me," I almost laugh.

"It's true," he replied, "I'm a very honest person."

He pulls his arms tighter around me. We dance for what seems like ages.

* * *

I hear the whispers again.

"_I wish I was her."_

"_I know, right? She must have the perfect life."_

I wish they were right, but they're not. And if they knew…if they knew everything about me, they wouldn't want to be. Merlin, who would?

"Lucy," Timothy says, "Let's go somewhere else."

I nod and he leads me away. We leave the hall and step outdoors, where it's still snowing.

"I love snow," I say, as we step into the cold.

"Yeah. It's nice, isn't it?"

"It's beautiful."

We walk further and further, until the school building seems incredibly tiny.

"Lucy."

"Yes?"

He kisses me. It begins gently, but quickly grows more desperate. I don't mind until he slides his hand down the front of my dress. I struggle to pull away from him, but he doesn't let me.

"Timothy!"

He ignores me and continues.

"Timothy…Timothy, stop!"

He talks as if hasn't heard me, "I took you to the ball, Lucy, got you away from those people who were talking about us…now it's time we had some fun."

"No, Timothy. No!"

He ignores me once again. He's pulled the sleeves of my dress down and is kissing my bare shoulders. I try to get away, but to no avail; he's stronger than I am. Merlin, I just want him to stop. Please, please let him stop…

He pushes me on the ground, into the snow. I cry out; he laughs at me.

"We're so far away, Lucy. No one will hear you."

He gets on the ground, too. Tears fall down my checks. He touches me everywhere. Struggling is useless. He gets on top of me. Then, he is inside of me. I want to be somewhere else, anywhere but here. I close my eyes and pretend that I am somewhere far away, not here. Anywhere but here. Somewhere far, far away…

After what seems like hours, he is finished. He leaves me there, freezing, hurt, and sobbing.

* * *

Shaking, I slip back into the castle unnoticed. Everyone is still at the ball, dancing. I take my dress of and get into one of the showers. I turn the water on as hot as it will go. It burns, but I don't care. I stand under the flow of the hot water, still shaking and crying. When I'm done, I take my wand and cut my arm because I don't know what else to do.


	5. Aftermath

**Author's Notes: **This story is filed under Albus and Minerva, and I know that they haven't been in it much yet. There will be more of them starting in the chapters following this one...or possibly starting after the chapter following this one, depending on how things work out.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the Harry Potter stuff. A girl can dream, though, right?

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Chapter Four: Aftermath

I don't sleep well that night. I toss, turn, and nod off for perhaps five minutes at a time. I'm scared that if I close my eyes for longer than that, I'll see him and relive what he did last night.

I hear Kit and Ramona enter the dormitory. It must be morning. I roll over and pretend to be asleep so that they won't ask me any questions.

I hear Ramona's voice, "The rumor is that he broke up with her towards the end of the ball."

Are they talking about Timothy and me?

"Pathetic toe rag," Kit says angrily, "Timothy, of course, not Lucy."

They are.

"I know. Can you believe he took her outside, broke up with her, and then went back to the ball and spent the rest of the night dancing with Annika?"

"I repeat: pathetic toe rag."

Ramona and Kit are quiet for a few moments.

"We should go," Kit says, "Let's not wake her up."

* * *

I don't want to get up, but I know that I can't "sleep" for the rest of the day. I get out of bed and take another shower. I scrub my skin until it's raw; I'm not sure if I'm washing so harshly to rid my body of Timothy or to hurt myself. It's probably for both reasons.

I dry off, get dressed, and sit on my bed. I want to forget last night, but it's memory won't leave me alone. Right now I want my mum more than anything. I just want her to hold me and reassure me that it will all be okay. I can't imagine telling anyone about this, though, not even Mum or Kit. Just the thought of it makes my throat close up.

I want to forget that it happened, but I can't. Every time I close my eyes I see him. I see him tearing my dress, kissing my shoulders. I feel him shove me into the snow; I feel how much it hurt afterward. I hear him laughing at me, telling me that no one would hear my cries. The memory of last night is more vivid than anything.

Now I have another reason for cutting: the resulting sting takes my mind off of the pain of what he did.

* * *

I'm still sitting on my bed when Kit enters the dormitory. I can't look her in the eyes.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," I say.

"Don't sorry about it," she sits on the bed and puts her arm around me, "Timothy is scum. You deserve so much better than him, anyway."

I start to cry on Kit's shoulder. She hugs me.

"Shh," she soothes, and I want to hell her the real reason for my tears but don't.

* * *

The following Monday, we Gryffindor fifth years have transfiguration. It's been three days since the ball, and I sit as far away from Timothy as possible. I surround myself with Kit and Ramona and Lynne. We sit together towards the back of the classroom, as Timothy is in the front row. I concentrate on taking the most detailed notes as possible; that way, I won't have to think about anything else.

Soon enough, class is over. Everyone leaves the classroom. I tell my friends to go ahead of me, that I will meet them in Herbology. I take a few steps towards Mum's desk. I pause and wonder how to say that I want to say. Why am I so nervous at the thought of talking to her? She's my mum, for Merlin's sake. I call out to her, but it comes out too softly. She doesn't hear me.

I turn and leave the room before she notices me.

* * *

When I am alone, I take my wand and cut myself. As I watch the angry red lines form, I try to get the memory of Timothy and that night out of my head by listing all of my flaws. Maybe if I can focus on those, I can have a few moments of peace from the memory of what he did to me.

Thinking of my flaws, I wonder if they were what brought this on. If I hadn't been so quiet, if I had confronted Timothy when I had overheard him and his friends, I would not have been at the dance with him. I would not have been alone with him. He would not have had the opportunity to do it.

Thinking about that, I hate myself even more.


	6. Choice

**Disclaimer: **Anything that you see from _Harry Potter_ is all Jo's.

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**Chapter Five: Choice**

It's been a week since it happened and the memories have yet to fade away. I am disgusted with myself: not only am I a talent less disappointment to my parents; I had allowed this to happen. I failed to confront Timothy and went to the ball with him despite what he said. I went outside with him.

I did those things; I brought this on myself.

I am suffering, and it's my own fault.

* * *

When I was younger, around eleven or twelve, I was an optimist. The world was perhaps not a perfect place, but the good easily outweighed the bad. There was a smile for every tear; a joy for each pain; a friend for every enemy. An evil wizard had sought to rule the world, but he had been defeated by my own father.

Now I'm not so sure. I see the world through different eyes, through thoroughly disillusioned ones. I am an exception to my earlier rule - my bad points outweigh my good points. Now the world seems so different than I earlier thought it to be. Everything seems so different. It's as if I live frozen in my own bubble, watching everyone else as they go about their lives.

I am all alone in this bubble, and right now the world seems as if it is the farthest thing from perfect.

* * *

I am constantly numb. My latest reason for cutting is so that I can feel something, so thAT I can feel anything, just to prove to myself that I am still alive.

However, I must ask myself: do I want to live anymore?

I think the answer is no.

Wouldn't it be better for them all if I was dead? Kit would go on to make better friends - the type of friends she deserves, and Mum and Dad wouldn't have to see me every day, a constant reminder of what their daughter is - or rather, what their daughter is not.

And I wouldn't have to face the pain anymore. The pain of being a disappointment, inadequate; the pain of what happened after the Yule Ball - it would all disappear. It will all disappear as soon as I do.

My mind is made up.

* * *

I will not end my life in a quick manner. No, I deserve for it to be long and drawn out; I deserve to suffer. It must be a slow and painful process, and one that has no chance of going wrong.

Suddenly I have an idea, and I know how my life will end: I will use the cruciatus curse on myself. According to my defense against the dark arts textbook, in order for the curse to work, the person casting it must want to cause pain. That is what I want and what I will do: use the curse on myself until I loose consciousness and die.

Before I do it, there is a letter that I must write.

_Dear Mum, Dad, and Kit,_

_If you are reading this, it means you know that I am dead by my own hand. The reason why I did it is both complicated and simple. This world is so full of pain and disappointment, and I just can't take it anymore. I can't stand another day of being alive._

_I could leave it at that, but you deserve to know the entire truth, what I could not tell you before. I suppose what propelled me into this state was what happened after the Yule Ball. Timothy, he made me…he raped me. And since it happened, I relive it in my head everyday. It hurts so much, and I'm beginning to think that the pain will never stop._

_You all deserve so much better than me. Kit, you deserve a better best friend. Mum and Dad, what you deserve in a daughter is so much more than what I can be. I am inadequate. I try and fail; I try and just can't. I know I'm always disappointing you, and I apologize for that. You deserve someone who wouldn't kill herself, and that is what I did. I'm sorry for the pain that this may cause you. Try to forget about me; eventually I will be nothing more than a distant memory of a girl, a girl who could not be what she needed to be._

_Know that I loved you three more than anything in this life, and I will continue to love you in the afterlife._

_Always,_

_Lucy_

* * *

I go to the astronomy tower, carrying the note and my wand. The tower will be deserted; no one will be there on a cold winter evening at the start of the Christmas holidays. I stand in the tower alone, point my wand at myself, and whisper the word.

_Crucio._

The pain is excruciating, but it doesn't stop me from continuing. I say it again and again until everything goes black.

* * *

Every part of my body feels as if it has been beaten to a pulp. My head feels as if it's splitting in two; the pain is so great that it prevents me from opening my eyes.

Where am I? I hear distant voices. I try to remember how I ended up here and fail. The voices become clearer.

"The cutting was a result of the rape, then?"

"No," another voice says, "From what I can gather, the assault took place about a week ago. Some of these cuts are nearly healed, while others are fresh. I would say that she started cutting before the rape and continued after. It's likely that the rape worsened the cutting."

A third voice, "Why didn't I notice that she was hurting so much?"

Then I remember: I was up on the tower. I had wanted to die there, but here I am. I'm alive.

I survived.

I had made my decision, but it didn't work out properly. Now here I am.

Here I am, alive.


	7. Talking

**Author's Notes: **Sorry I haven't updated in a few days; real life got busy. Here's chapter six. Lots of Albus and Minerva. I'm going to Oregon later in this upcoming week, but I'll try to update again before I leave. Anyway, I'm pretty psyched about the trip I'm taking. Going to look at some colleges and stuff.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine!

* * *

**Chapter Six: Talking**

"Lucy is quite strong," one of the voices, which I have figured out belongs to Mum's friend Poppy Pomfrey, says, "To survive as many cruciatus curses as she subjected herself to…even at her age, that's quite a feat."

"She'll be alright then?" Mum's voice asks.

Poppy hesitates, "Physically, she'll be fine after a few days of rest, but I would recommend counseling for her depression and the trauma brought on by the rape."

"Of course," a third voice, my father's, says, "I'll send her to nothing less than the best counselors."

Mum makes a noise in what I presume is in agreement.

Everything swirls around in my head…counselors, depression, trauma…I can't escape this; now I have no choice but to face it all. Suddenly, I feel so overwhelmed. It's as if the weight of everything - counselors and depression, trying to kill myself and somehow being saved - hits me.

My eyes must have opened, because Mum takes my hand in hers and says softly, "Lucy?"

"I'll leave you three alone," Poppy says. I hear a door close.

I open my eyes again and sit up in the bed. I can't look either at either one of them.

"Lucy, darling," Mum says again gently.

"I.." I begin, but feel the tears start to come before I can finish. Mum holds out her arms, and I bury my face on her shoulder.

"How…how did?" I ask a few moments later.

"I found you," Dad says, his eyes full of concern, "You were unconscious."

"We love you so much," Mum gently cups my face with her hands, "You're everything I've ever wanted in a daughter."

"It's true," Dad says.

"Why is it," I ask, "that the two of you are so brilliant, and I have to struggle so hard to be average?"

"Who says you aren't brilliant?" Dad asks, "Lucy, Albert Einstein did terribly in school, yet he went on to be one of the greatest minds of our time. At your age, it is too early to pass judgments about who is intelligent and who is not."

"Sweat heart, you're kind, caring, thoughtful, and I love you for it," Mum says. Dad nods in agreement.

"I don't disappoint you?" I ask, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"Never in a thousand years would you disappoint us," Dad says, "Please don't ever forget that."

I nod. I can tell he means it, and it feels as if a gigantic weight has been lifted from my chest.

Mum glances at the clock, "It's late. We'll talk more in the morning. You should rest, Lucy."

"I'll leave you two," Dad says. He makes eye contact with me, "I love you."

"Love you, too."

Mum stays in the room. Suddenly feeling tired, I begin to drift off to sleep.

"Mum.." I say sleepily.

"Tomorrow, Lucy," she replies, "We'll talk tomorrow."

Her voice is the last thing I hear before I fall asleep. I hold on to it and feel safe.

* * *

I open my eyes.

"Good morning," Mum says.

"Hi."

"Did you sleep alright?"

I nod; it was the first time I've slept peacefully since the Yule Ball.

"Lucy," Mum begins, and from the look she has in her eyes I know she's going to talk about the ball and what he did, "After what happened at the Yule Ball, why didn't you say anything?"

Her tone isn't accusatory; it's just concerned.

"I tried to once. I don't know; the thought of talking about it made me so nervous."

Mum has a worried look on her face.

"I'm sorry."

"Darling, it wasn't your fault," Mum tells me, her tone firm.

"Yes it was," the words come tumbling out, "I willingly went outside with him. I went to the ball with him even though…"

Our eyes meet, and I know she understands. _He only wanted to go with me because my last name is Dumbledore_.

"I brought this on myself, Mum."

"Lucy, that isn't true. That boy's actions are all on him. Yes, you went to the ball with him; yes, you went outside. But neither of those things made him or encouraged him to hurt you like that. Do you see that, Lucy?"

"Maybe I'm starting to."

"That's good. If there's anything that I can do to reinforce that, let me know."

I bring up the other elephant in the room.

"Mum, the cutting, I started it because…I wanted to punish myself."

"Lucy," she says softly.

"I just felt…it was like you all deserved so much better than me, and I know I couldn't be it. It's why I hate myself."

"Why do you feel as if you're not good enough?" Mum asks sadly.

"I..I'm just so average, and it feels like everyone around me is amazing. It always feels like I'll never be able to be that good."

Mum is quiet for a moment as she remembers something, "Lucy, when your father and I were first married, we desperately wanted a child, but for the longest time it didn't happen. When we learned that I was finally pregnant with you, we were so happy. We love you so much. You aren't a disappointment; you're a godsend. And darling, good is a relative term."

"What?"

"Someone could be smart and cruel and feel that they're not good. Someone else could be failing classes and kind and feel that they're not good. But Lucy, they both have good in them: the first person is smart and the second is kind. And sweat heart, you _are_ good enough."

I have been thinking that I'm not good enough for the longest time, and within twenty-four hours both of my parents have dispelled this notion. I am coming to the realization that perhaps I _am _good. It feels foreign and familiar at the same time. It feels foreign, but I think I could get used to it. I could let the familiarity take over. I could; I see that now.

I tell Mum, "I don't know what to say."

She hugs me, "You don't have to say anything. Just promise me that you won't hurt yourself anymore."

"I'll try," I say, and it's an honest answer.


	8. Going Home

**Author's Notes: **And here is chapter seven. Finally, we get a decent amount of Albus. In all likelihood, this will be the last update before I go to Oregon for a week.

**Disclaimer: **_Harry Potter_ is 100 per cent JK Rowling's, 0 per cent mine.

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Going Home**

After another day at St. Mungo's, my parents and I return home; we go to our house rather than Hogwarts since the Christmas holidays have begun. We arrive and get settled in. As I put my things away, my eyes fall on a framed picture on my bureau. In it, my parents and I all look happy. I look at another one where Kit and I are laughing about something; we look so carefree.

I was ready to give that all up. I would have given that all up if Dad hadn't found me. I sit on my bed for awhile and think about that.

* * *

"Lucy!" Mum calls a few hours later, "Dinner is ready."

Slowly, I walk downstairs to the dining room.

"What have you been up to this afternoon?" Dad asks as Mum passes me the salad.

"I, um, fell asleep," I lie, not feeling up to explaining my earlier thoughts.

"You're not eating," Mum points out.

"I've eaten a little," I reply, "I'm just not very hungry."

"Well, eat a little more," Mum tells me, "You've hardly eaten anything these past few days."

I nod.

Dad changes the subject, "Poppy's friend has a friend who is a counselor. Perhaps we could go see her tomorrow."

I nod again, "Okay."

* * *

That night, I fall asleep easily. I suppose it's because these last few days have been so tiring, emotionally. Also, unlike the one at St. Mungo's, the bed in my room is familiar. That undoubtedly helps.

First, I dream that I am with Uncle Aberforth, helping him tend to his goats. We're feeding them. Uncle Aberforth laughs - he's never happier than when he's with his goats.

Suddenly, Uncle Aberforth is gone, and Timothy is in his place. We're back in the snow. He shoves me down.

No. No. I won't let him do this again.

I cry out. He laughs at me, tells me that no one will hear.

I ignore him. I scream over and over again.

"Lucy!"

He puts his arm on me, tries to hold me down again. He won't. He won't do this to me again. I hit him as hard as I can, again and again.

"Lucy…ssh, Lucy."

He tries to quiet me, but he can't do this to me twice; I won't let him. I scream again. No, no, no; this can't be happening, not again.

"Albus! Albus, floo Poppy."

If I scream loud enough, maybe someone will hear me and make him stop. I scream as loud as I can, for as long as I can.

"I have a potion for dreamless sleep and a calming potion."

I hear voices. Why don't they hear me? Why can't they make him go away?

"Lucy," someone utters my name gently, "Lucy, wake up."

I open my eyes. I'm in my bedroom. I sit up, confused and frightened.

"What happened?"

"It was a nightmare," Poppy explains, "It was only a dream, sweet heart."

I fall sobbing into her arms.

After a few moments like that, she says, "You need to drink these. The first one is a calming potion and the second is for dreamless sleep. "

I hiccup and do so, hoping that I will wake up to find out that these past six weeks have all been nothing more than a bad dream.

* * *

After falling asleep again, I look over at the clock and discover that it is morning. I get dressed and go downstairs to find Mum and Poppy already awake. They both look at me with the same worried expression on their faces.

"Oh Merlin," I say, "Last night, that actually happened?"

Mum nods, "You were having a nightmare, darling."

She has a bruise on her cheek. I must have hit her when I thought I was fighting off Timothy.

"Oh Mum, I'm so sorry," I gasp, looking at the bruise.

"Don't worry about it," she firmly tells me.

"Nightmares," Poppy speaks up, "are very common after a traumatic event, such as what you experienced. You have nothing to be ashamed of, Lucy."

"It was so vivid, like it was happening all over again," I say tearfully.

"I'm going to prescribe you a potion for dreamless sleep to take at night," Poppy tells me.

I nod.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" Mum asks me.

"A little."

"Come here," she says, and I go and sit next to her on the couch. She puts her arms around me, and my head safely rests against her shoulder. I close my eyes, and we all sit in silence for awhile. I soon fall asleep, and later wake to find Mum and Poppy in the middle of a conversation.

"Poppy, I'm so worried about her," Mum says softly as she tightens her grip around me. They must think I'm still asleep.

"It's been so hard on the poor dear."

"She hasn't been eating. But at least she's been talking to me. Merlin, I hate to think of her going through this all alone, keeping everything all bottled up."

"That would make it much worse."

"I keep asking myself, why her? Why did something this awful have to happen to my sweet little girl? She was already going through so much and didn't need this to top it off."

Poppy asks, "The cutting, you mean? Have you talked about it?"

"We did. I think it's a hurdle we've at least made a bit of progress in overcoming. Albus wants to take her to see Andromeda."

"I'll floo her later."

"Thank you so much, Poppy."

"Of course. She's like a daughter to me, Minerva."

I yawn to let them know that I am awake.

"Sleep well, Lucy?" Poppy asks.

"Yeah, I did. How long was I out for?"

"About an hour," Mum tells me.

"Lucy, you should eat," Poppy says.

"I am kind of hungry," I agree.

"Good," Mum replies, "I'll have one of the house elves bring us a tray."

* * *

That afternoon, when I am in my bedroom, there is a knock on the door on my already-open door. I look up to see Dad standing there.

"Hi," I say upon seeing him.

"Your mum is very concerned over your eating habits," Dad says, a twinkle in his eye, "so I thought we'd make her happy. Sherbet lemon?"

I laugh for what feels like the first time in ages, "Sure."

He hands me the candy, "Are you still open to the idea of talking to a counselor?"

"Poppy's friend Andromeda? Okay."

He nods.

"Dad?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Why'd you save me?"

"Because you're too young to leave this world," he replies carefully, "I realize that at the moment that might have been your wish, but if you had been unable to live your full life, I believe you would have regretted your death."

"Will I ever forget what he did?" I whisper.

"No," Dad tells me, "It will fade away so it does not hurt as much as it does now, but it will always be a part of your past. Though it does not have to define you."

His wisdom is comforting. We sit in silence for awhile until Mum calls us down to dinner.


	9. My Beginning

**Author's Notes: **The last chapter. Thanks to Bergere, wandamarie, minerva's-kitten, and pennypotter128 for really sticking with the story and always reviewing. =)

**Disclaimer:** Anything you recognize from _HP_ isn't mine.

* * *

**Chapter Eight: My Beginning**

"I'm glad I went," I say to my parents as we eat dinner that night, in reference to seeing the counselor. I really am happy that I went; it was the right thing to do, a step in the right direction. I didn't have much hope before, but now I do. I see that I didn't deserve the cutting, and I know that I want to live. I've hardly overcome anything yet, but now I feel as if I eventually will overcome everything.

Mum smiles, "So am I."

Dad agrees. He glances at Mum, who looks back at him. Dad raises his eyebrows. Mum hesitates and then nods.

"What?" I ask.

"Your Mum and I have been thinking," Dad begins, "And before I elaborate, darling, I want to reassure you that we don't want to send you away, but we believe it would be good for you."

"What would be good for me?"

"A new school," Mum says, "Getting away from Hogwarts. Transferring to Beauxbatons."

"I..I," I cannot seem to put a coherent thought together; I'm so shocked at the idea, "Because of Timothy? So I wouldn't have to see him?"

"Timothy is slated to be on trial by the ministry," Mum says, a note of anger creeping into her voice, "He will be expelled from Hogwarts. No, Lucy, your father and I think there will be less pressure on you at a school where your parents are no so…" Her voice trails off.

"Prominent," Dad supplies.

Mum nods.

"Can I think about it?" I ask.

"Certainly," Dad tells me, "It's a big decision; we don't expect you to decide right away."

"Eat," Mum reminds me gently. Food is one of my bigger problems right now; I never seem to have much of an appetite. I know eating something that I need to do, though, so I do as she tells me while I play with the idea of going to school at Beauxbatons.

* * *

Later that night, there is a knock on our front door. I open it and see Kit.

"Hi," I say.

"Hey," she replies, "Can I come in?"

"Of course." We go to my bedroom.

"Luce, I," Kit says, "I am so sorry that everything that happened to you happened."

"Thanks," I reply, "I'm sorry I didn't say anything to you earlier."

"In the note, you said I deserve a better best friend than you. Lucy, that isn't true: you're amazing and sweet and insightful and caring. I don't know what I would do without you. And even if I did deserve better than you, I wouldn't want that."

"I…thanks."

"It's true."

"I'm happy I'm alive. I mean, now I see that it wasn't the right thing to do."

"I'm glad," Kit says softly.

"My parents are thinking about having me transfer to Beauxbatons."

"Really? Is that what _you _want?"

"I'm not sure."

"Oh," Kit replies, "Well…I think it might be a good thing. I mean, I'd miss you, but it might be good for you to get away from Hogwarts."

"I know. I just hate the thought of not seeing you or my parents or everyone on a daily basis."

"It would be hard, but we'd make it. We'd still have the summers."

"You're right, I think."

"Do what's best for you," Kit says, "By the way, Ramona says hi. And if there's absolutely anything we can do for you, we'll both be there."

I smile. Earlier I had considered Kit to be my only true friend, but now I think I underestimated: I really do have a friend in Ramona. Earlier, I didn't realize how lucky I was to have the two of them and Lynne.

"Thanks," I say. We both smile.

* * *

It is late. I haven't had any nightmares since Poppy gave me the potion for dreamless sleep. I'm glad to not have to relive the terrible night of the Yule Ball. The rape wasn't my fault; I realize that now. Even with that in consideration, it still hurts to think about it. I get into bed and sleep peacefully.

* * *

"I think you're right," I tell my parents the next morning while we eat breakfast. At Beauxbatons I wouldn't be Lucy Dumbledore surrounded by expectations and assumptions; I would just be Lucy Dumbledore, a person who I could give my own definition to. A person who I'm finally ready to define, "It would be good for me to transfer to Beauxbatons."

I'm ready to learn who I truly am. I am ready to define that person; the thought of doing so does not scare me anymore. I realize it might not always be easy, but I feel ready to take on the challenge. Reflecting on those things, this really seems like the beginning. My beginning.


End file.
